


Gleam and Glow

by redhoodedwolf



Series: Sterek Week '16 [1]
Category: Tangled (2010), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is Rapunzel, Fluff, M/M, Some angst, Sterek Week 2016, Stiles is Flynn, Tangled AU, dumb boys in love, sterekscenestealer2, tragic back stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8313382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoodedwolf/pseuds/redhoodedwolf
Summary: Derek peeked up at Stiles, caught him staring, and smirked a little. Stiles shrugged, unashamed. That seemed to only spur Derek on, and his smirk widened.“So, Mikolaj Stilinski —”Stiles winced visibly, though the pronunciation was flawless, as was everything else about Derek.“Hm?” Derek hummed, getting Stiles to crack a smile at the teasing tone Derek carried. Derek raised an eyebrow, silently asking for more. More of what Stiles wasn’t sure, but he could assume.He waved a hand in the air, as if brushing the subject away. “Nah, you don’t want to hear the sad tale of poor orphan Mikolaj. It’s a bit of a downer.”Derek raised both of his eyebrows in a challenge and scooted closer to Stiles on the log. He cocked his head to the side, like a dog, obviously interested in hearing something.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Day one of Sterek Week 2016, Scene Stealer. Decided to write a scene from the Tangled AU that I thought up a while ago, and you can find ,my ramblings on that here: http://redhoodedwolf.tumblr.com/post/145219044210/so-has-anyone-done-a-sterek-tangled-au-where

            The fire crackled and snapped as it broke down the wood it was using to sustain itself. Crickets chirped at the stars in the navy blue night sky. The area where they created the campfire had been used before for the same purpose, and the previous users had dragged large wooden logs to circle the burnt out ground, as seats.

            Derek sat next to Stiles on one and wordlessly reached out a hand, asking for Stiles’. Stiles hesitated, staring down at the scratches that were beginning to scab over, the bleeding finally ceased after their tumble over the short waterfall. Derek caught his hesitant eyes, raised a single dark bushy eyebrow, egging him on, so Stiles sighed heavily and offered his hand over. Derek took the limb gently between his own, thumb brushing lightly at the skin around the abrasions caused by the sharp rocks they’d recently been trapped by. Stiles felt his breath hitch, half because Derek was very close to something very sensitive, and half because it was Derek touching him so gently.

            Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched this reverently. Maybe when his father was still alive, though that would have been over a decade ago.

            Keeping the one hand encircling Stiles’ wrist, Derek moved the other to his feet where he’d coiled his long flowing silver mane. He fumbled for a moment for the end of the hair, picking a few leaves out as he went, but finally found what he deemed enough. Stiles watched on, curious. Derek had blurted, “I have magic hair that glows when I sing,” and that had indeed, been the truth, but what that had to do with Stiles’ injury he wasn’t sure.

            Derek then began to wrap the end of his hair around Stiles’ hand, slowly winding it up so that it was covering the whole of his palm, but not so tightly. Stiles feared, for a second, that his blood would stain Derek’s mostly unblemished hair, but Derek didn’t seem to care.

            The silence was too much for Stiles, as it had always been since he could remember, so as usual he broke it, throwing in a witty comment. “You’re being oddly suspicious, wrapping your glow-y hair around my injury.”

            Derek’s eyes snapped up to meet his, lips twitching in a smirk, before he schooled himself and the regular blank face was back. Derek licked his lips, opened his mouth, hesitated for just a second. “I.” His green eyes bore into Stiles’, and Stiles noticed almost a flash of fear pass through them. “Just. Don’t freak out, please.”

            Stiles glanced down at his hair-wrapped hand and then back up at Derek, trying to communicate his utter confusion. He wasn’t sure he could promise Derek that, considering his mini meltdown over the glow part of the hair. What was this new tick going to do to his mental state?

            Derek swallowed thickly and, without giving Stiles a chance to ask questions, took a deep breath and began to sing. Stiles tried to concentrate on the words Derek was singing, the song starting out the same way it had in those brief seconds before they were swallowed by water, but his concentration was broken the second Derek’s hair started to glow. It began from the scalp, the roots of the silver hair shone brilliantly, the night sky twinkling off of it like diamonds. The soothing melody washed over him, and his shoulder relaxed. Derek’s eyes had fluttered closed.

            The glow started at the top of his head, but progressed downwards, igniting every strand, around them. The grass illuminated as silver hairs disrupted them. The glow continued to make its way up until the hairs wrapped around Stiles’ hand were glowing as well. And suddenly the pain was gone.

            Stiles gasped, eyes flicking to Derek, then back down to his hand where the sing of the injury had all but ceased to exist. Stiles’ eyes caught on Derek’s hand around his wrist, and he could see the veins of Derek’s hand. They were an inky black, like poison. Stiles started to pull away, knowing he had to be the cause of it, but Derek just squeezed tighter, sang louder, didn’t let him go.

            The glow began to recede, and only then did Stiles realize Derek had stopped singing, the melodious song ringing in his ears like bells. Derek’s eyes were still closed, but there was a crease to his brown now, like he was either in pain or thinking very hard. Or preparing to be physically scolded.

            Stiles looked back at his hand when Derek released his wrist, the black veins having disappeared as soon as the touch did. Stiles swallowed thickly. The hair wrapped around his hand began to slip off now that it wasn’t being held, and Stiles finished the job, revealing the scaring left over on his hand.

            No blood, no pain, just thin white and pink lines slightly raised on his palm to indicate there was ever an injury in the first place. Stiles’ eyes widened, felt his breath get stuck in his throat, and he wondered if he was going to have a panic attack.

            Derek snapped, “Don’t freak out,” in such a demanding tone that Stiles immediately felt his heartbeat steady itself, and he caught his breath.

            Derek looked concerned, hands held in front of him like he was surrendering, the furrow prominent between his brows.

            Stiles squeaked, “I’m not freaking out, are you freaking out? No, never, I’m just so fascinated by your glowing hair and apparently the magic pain-sucking powers it possesses, and it’s been like this for how long, exactly?”

            Derek blinked, twice. His shoulders relaxed and he huffed out an amused breath. “Um, forever? For as long as I can remember, at least.”

            Stiles finally stopped staring in shock at his hand and turned all of his attention back on Derek. The man tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and dropped his hands in his lap, almost as if in defeat. “Grandfather said when I was a baby people tried to cut it. To use the power for themselves. They killed my parents to do so, so Grandfather hid me away underground.”

            Derek lifted a hand again, this time turning his head towards Stiles as he pushed his hair back. Deep, hidden amongst silver strands, was a small shortly cropped clump of dark black hair. “But once it’s cut, it turns black and loses its power. So Grandfather kept me away, to be safe.”

            Derek tucked the hair back away, hiding it once again. Stiles felt the sudden urge to reach out and feel it, see if it was any coarser than the rest of Derek’s hair. He held himself back.

            Derek dropped his gaze to his bare toes where he was weaving them in and out of his strands of hair. “A _gift_ —A gift like this has to be protected. That’s why Grandfather… That’s why _I_ never —”

            “You never went aboveground,” Stiles finished the sentence for him, remembering the dark house accessed only through a series of tunnels that Derek had been left in, it seemed, to rot away.

            Derek nodded slowly, arms crossed over his chest. He reminded Stiles, then, of when they’d first been face to face, how terror trembled in Derek’s voice, but his eyes and face and body language dared anyone to challenge him. The crossed arms now looked more like a shield, to Stiles. He was trying to protect himself.

            Stiles found himself blurting, “And you still want to go back?” in an incredulous voice. Seeing where Derek had lived, it made Stiles’ hovel look happier. Sure, it was spacious, but it was empty, dull but for the paintings on the wall. No way in or out. Stiles detested the thought that Derek would ever want to voluntarily stay there, once he’d escaped.

            Derek eyes shone with fury, and Stiles almost took back his statement. “Yes,” Derek snapped immediately, but then he recoiled, working his jaw as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. “No,” he breathed a moment later, a question in his voice. Derek sighed. “I don’t know,” he finally landed on, arms dropping to his knees, defeated.

            Stiles swallowed, trying to come up with something to say, to help Derek. Less than a day ago he’d been hoping to scare Derek back underground, but after getting to know him, after learning about all this… He didn’t want Derek to ever have to experience that seclusion again.

            Derek sniffled, sighed, rubbed a hand over his face, fingers scratching at the stubble scattered across his chin. He took a deep breath, a heavier sigh, but he seemed to decide something, so Stiles let the subject drop, content to watch Derek as the firelight flickered across his frankly beautiful face.

            Derek peeked up at Stiles, caught him staring, and smirked a little. Stiles shrugged, unashamed. That seemed to only spur Derek on, and his smirk widened.

            “So, Mikolaj Stilinski —”

            Stiles winced visibly, though the pronunciation was flawless, as was everything else about Derek.

            “Hm?” Derek hummed, getting Stiles to crack a smile at the teasing tone Derek carried. Derek raised an eyebrow, silently asking for more. More of what Stiles wasn’t sure, but he could assume.

            He waved a hand in the air, as if brushing the subject away. “Nah, you don’t want to hear the sad tale of poor orphan Mikolaj. It’s a bit of a downer.”

            Derek raised both of his eyebrows in a challenge and scooted closer to Stiles on the log. He cocked his head to the side, like a dog, obviously interested in hearing something.

            Stiles sighed and held up his hands. “Alright, uh. I only knew my father for the first five years of my life. See, he loved my mother dearly. I heard so much how devastating the loss of her through my birth was to my father, and saw it more so first hand. My father was a great man, but her death had a toll on him. He loved her so much he died to be with her.” Stiles shuffled his feet, crunching frosted grass under his boots. “Guess he didn’t love me enough to live for me.”

            Derek’s hand landed on Stiles’ shoulder, surprising Stiles, but he simply looked at it, then at Derek who gave him a smile and squeezed his hand. Stiles continued then. “After that, I went to live in an orphanage where they let me stay until, well, very recently when I turned eighteen and they booted me out. But after my father, I couldn’t keep my name. “I was no victory, which is what my name means in my family’s native tongue, so I rebranded myself. Started going by Stiles, from Stilinski. It gave me a newer purpose, I guess. If I was a different person, then I wasn’t a sad orphan. I could be anything, could go anywhere. For a kid with nothing, that was a pretty great prospect.”

            Derek hummed softly, and Stiles could feel the warm breath on his cheek. The urge to thread his fingers through Derek’s hair emerged once again, so Stiles clasped his hands together in his lap to stop them. He turned on the charm, the fakeness of it he still possessed, and said, “You can’t go spreading this around, now. I have a reputation to maintain.”

            Ah, yes, his reputation. His mouth; _charmspeak_ the people hissed. With a lit of his voice, he managed to convince anyone to give him anything. It was how he’d managed to snag the missing Prince’s crown jewels that got him into the situation he was currently in. Though it wasn’t a positive reputation, it was something, and Stiles was determined to keep this something. If he couldn’t have what he wished, which was changing more and more by the second, then he had to at least maintain what he still had.

            “We wouldn’t want that,” Derek teased, his face too close to Stiles’.

            Stiles couldn’t stop staring into Derek’s eyes, at the swirl of colors. There were wrinkles around his eyes, squinting lines. It was endearing, Stiles thought, for no reason other than they were possessed by Derek.

            Derek chuckled softly, swaying further into Stiles’ space, their lips only a short distance apart.

            Stiles found himself wanting for the first time, and the thought surprised him enough that he flinched away from Derek and stood, citing the need for more firewood to keep the fire going on such a cold night.

            “Hey, Stiles?” Derek spoke softly, halting Stiles’ cowardly retreat.

            Stiles swung back around, eager to hear Derek speak.

            “For the record, I like this Mikolaj Stilinski side of you more than the fake Stiles side.”

            Derek’s words took his breath away. Stiles fumbled a little, almost tripping over a tree root as he spun to face Derek the rest of the way. “You’d be the first,” he admitted, wringing his fingers. “But thanks.”

            Derek responded with a small smile, and Stiles felt his heart trip in his chest as his feet tripped fully over the exposed tree root. Derek’s soft laughter rang in his ears for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> There's more of this insanity on my tumblr at redhoodedwolf


End file.
